


Black. Two Sugars.

by Dominatrix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance, it's so fluffy I'm gonna die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/Dominatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John spend a nice afternoon in a coffee store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black. Two Sugars.

„Here, your coffee.“ John pushed the unobtrusive cup over the table to Sherlock. Sherlock glanced at his face shortly before he dedicated himself to his phone again.

“Thanks.” John sighed while he let himself sink in the comfortable armchair. The niche was tiny, so his knees almost touched Sherlock’s. Not that he would mind. No, John even stretched out his legs so far that his body had to collide with Sherlock’s. Much to his regret all he received was a twitching corner of Sherlock’s mouth and a short stop of the long, slender fingers on the display, before Sherlock focused again.

“Lestrade?” John asked with a short nod at the phone. „Mhm“ Sherlock murmured while his fingers were hovering over the surface as if he would be unsure what to write.

“At least drink your coffee as long as it’s hot” John reminded him. It had happened several times that Sherlock had just forgotten his coffee until it had gotten cold and undrinkable. If Sherlock detested something – apart from underhand committed serial murders, talk shows and Anderson – it was stale coffee. With the right hand he groped for the cup on the table without looking up while his left hand kept on writing orders to the DI. Sherlock didn’t prefer one hand, and John knew that he could do everything with both hands as if it wouldn’t make a difference. Sherlock claimed that his writing looked far more angular when he wrote with his left if his right had to do something else at the same time, but John didn’t see any difference. Next to Sherlock spirited, elegant handwriting John’s most exerted calligraphy looked like the scribble of a five-year-old. Well, maybe of an eight-year-old. On good days.

Absent-minded Sherlock raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. Immediately his lips hardened to a disgusted expression of rejection.

“John, I always drink my coffee with sugar…” He looked up and looked at a grinning John who was sitting there with two bags of sugar in his hands and looked at him with sparkling eyes.

“I know. Black. Two Sugars.“ While he reached the sugar over to the Consulting Detective his smile widened.

“Sherlock. We’re living together for almost two years now. When did I ever forget the sugar?” Sherlock smiled and took the sugar with a small nod. Before John could pull back his hand Sherlock had already intertwined his fingers with John’s and raised them to his lips.

“Thanks” he murmured against the skin before he breathed a gentle kiss on John’s back of the hand. It wasn’t usual that Sherlock showed his affection in public – not because he was uncomfortable with it, he just didn’t evaluate it as necessary.

“And what was this _No work when we go out_?” John dug deeper and looked on the phone in a meaningful way.

“No, we’ve talked about this. We were both there” he interrupted Sherlock, who had already opened his mouth. With a low mumble Sherlock closed his mouth again and cook another sip of his coffee instead, in which he had put the sugar by now. With a small and luxurious smile he looked at John.

“Good?” he asked.

“Perfect” Sherlock replied und bowed over the table to kiss his boyfriend gently but with a seductive promise on far more. John was happy when he felt Sherlock’s lips on his, the delicate taste of bitterness and sweetness and the rush of his blood that he heard in his ears whenever Sherlock touched him. They were together for almost five months now. But it still was something special.

While John looked out of the window into the Londoner cloudiness and pretended not to recognize that Sherlock was looking on his display – he tried to be very unobtrusive – he could still taste the pleasant taste in his mouth.

Black coffee, a hint of sugar and Sherlock. It was the ideal mixture for a foggy Thursday afternoon like this one.


End file.
